Chapter Text
Sunlight spread timid tendrils across Tortall, laying soft gold over the capital city of Corus as it woke slowly to a lovely spring morning. Light crept up to the second floor of the Olau townhouse, slipping through a crack in the shutters to disturb one of the men sleeping there. He was tall, his feet nearly hanging off the end of the bed. Dark curls, rumpled from sleep, fell around a round, almost boyish face.
Taybur Sibigat opened one dark eye, spotted the open shutter, and reached one long arm to close it. The offending ray of light disappeared. He did not try to go back to sleep, instead turning to look at his bedfellow. Alan of Pirate’s Swoop, knight of Tortall, champion of the Dark God, took up more of the bed than he needed. In his sleep Alan had, as was his habit, encroached further and further into Taybur’s space.
He was a head shorter than Taybur with short strawberry blonde hair and green eyes and a nose inherited directly from his father’s face. He lay unnaturally still. Taybur rested a hand on Alan’s chest, reassuring himself that Alan’s heart still beat and he still breathed -- he did, just slowly. In the time they’d shared a bed, short though it was, Taybur had discovered that Alan would occasionally fall into a dream that no one could rouse him from.
The first time it happened had been a week ago, on their first night in Corus, sleeping under Alan’s grandparents’ roof. Taybur had panicked and woken the household, only for Alan to wake by himself a few minutes later. Now Taybur knew to wait. In his dreams Alan walked the path set for him by his god. He’d told Taybur the dreams were never very clear though he felt that he learned as he dreamed. Indeed, Alan’s skill at hearing and speaking with ghosts had grown and improved massively in less than a year.
Alan was called to the north, to the border with Scanra, bound to his god’s command. He had his king’s approval and they would leave tomorrow with two squads of King’s Own men. The squads were to replace men lost in skirmishes on the border. It would be good to have an escort as far as Fort Steadfast; the Scanran War had ended five years ago but the north was still a volatile place.
Their short trip from Pirate’s Swoop to Corus had been quiet, at least. Taybur had thought, when he met Alan last year, that they would fit in each other’s lives. Their meetings since then had only solidified the impression and when Aly had suggested Taybur join Alan when he traveled north, Taybur had jumped at the chance.
In truth, Aly had pestered him into admitting that he wanted to follow Alan, packed his bags and shoved him out the door. He’d nearly turned back four times on the short ride from Port Legann to Pirate’s Swoop. But maybe it was true that Tortall was a land ripe with magic - or maybe Aly just had excellent timing. He’d arrived at the crossroads exactly in time to intercept Alan at the beginning of his journey. He smiled at the memory.
They’d been excellent traveling companions, falling into an easy rhythm. Once they’d reached Corus he’d met Alan’s grandparents, Myles of Olau and Eleni Cooper. The older couple had been welcoming and easy-going, for nobles. Taybur was finding that most of Tortall’s nobility stood on very little ceremony. It was a pleasant change from the formality and overall splendor of the court of the Copper Isles. However, it also left him off balance, unsure what was expected of him.
It didn’t help that he had no official standing in Tortall. He might as well be a mercenary for all the direction he had. Not for the first time, Taybur wondered if he should’ve gone to Tyra after all. But for now he was content to be here, watching as Alan’s green eyes opened. In the cozy space they inhabited, Taybur’s shadows felt far away. He would find a new place for himself in Tortall; first they had to survive a mission from the god of death.
“Good morning,” Alan said, his voice still rough from sleep. “Did you catch the person who ran me over with a cart yesterday? I feel certain they returned in the night and attempted to finish the job.”
“Good morning,” Taybur said. “I believe you were the one who insisted on jousting against Lord Raoul. Your exact words were ‘I missed flying’.”
Taybur had wanted to travel through Corus without stepping foot inside the palace. Alan, however, seemed determined to introduce Taybur to everyone in the country. Meeting Raoul of Goldenlake, Alan’s knight master, had been at the end of a long line of introductions that had started with the king and queen and gone all the way to the chief hostler of the palace stables. Raoul was a good man and a fearsome knight and commander. They’d whiled away a pleasant hour in his company before Alan had dragged his former knight master to the tilting field.
“I thought it would help me understand the pigeons better,” said Alan, in the present, with his usual mischievous grin. Pigeons were sacred to the Dark God, carrying souls of the dead who were not quite ready to pass on into the Dark God’s realm.
“Should I start carrying around breadcrumbs to feed you with?” Taybur asked, not bothering to keep an answering grin off his own face. “A feathered cap? Twigs to build you a nest?”
“Oh, would you?” Alan batted his eyelashes. “Only not the breadcrumbs, my aunt would never forgive me if I fed birds bread.”
Taybur raised his hands in defeat. “Just the twigs and cap then. Wouldn’t want to upset the Wildmage.”
“Who said anything about the Wildmage?”
“Alan,” Taybur sighed. This was Alan’s favorite game. It was a callback to their first meeting, when Alan and Aly had spent weeks pretending they weren’t related to every famous person in Tortall. Taybur thought it was hilarious but would never admit it. “You only call two people aunt - Daine and the queen.”
Alan sniffed. “Aunt Thayet is very invested in birds, I’ll have you know.”
Taybur did the only thing he could think of and pushed Alan out of bed. Not expecting it, Alan yelped and went over the edge easily. His tousled head popped up over the side of the bed.
“So is that a yes or a no on the feathered cap?”
Before they left Corus Taybur went and bought a cap with the biggest, ugliest feathers set into it he could find.